Always
by Bookkbaby
Summary: EragonMurtagh meaning SLASH and INCEST. Songfic set to 'Always' by Saliva. Eragon and Murtagh contemplate each other, and a chance meeting brings something neither had dared to hope for.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first attempt in this fandom- I've written before, just not for Eragon. I just thought that the fandom needed a lot more slash.

Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't make money. All characters (except Vyrin, who I invented for temporary use) are property of the original writer. The song is the property of someone besides me. Etc.

WARNING: Eragon/Murtagh INCEST AND YAOI/SLASH to follow. Do not read for the sole purpose of flaming me because I put the two hottest characters in Eragon together. I will point and laugh.

Other Warnings: May be some OOC, since this is my first attempt and I couldn't find a beta. Still, it's FANfiction for a reason, ne?

Enjoy!

ALWAYS

_I hear... a voice say "Don't be so blind"... _

_it's telling me all these things... _

_that you would probably hide..._

Eragon rested his head in his open palms. It had been a long day- a very long day, in a stretch of long days and longer weeks.

He had kept himself busy, busier than was healthy. Meals were skipped, hours of sleep sacrificed, and battle fought one after another to avoid thinking. Yet, in quiet moments like these, when there was no work to be done and only silence to be found, one voice kept echoing back to him.

'Open your eyes- he hates you. He abandoned you and your cause because he cares nothing for you.'

It hurt. Eragon had never been one for self-pity, and he had never been one to give up. Even in the face of impossible odds, he had kept going, scraping and scrambling for one chance for victory. Every time, he had pulled through.

Every time except one.

'He's gone.'

Murtagh had been an enigma- a riddle that had puzzled and intrigued Eragon since he had met the black-clad man. When Murtagh had apparently died, he had shoved aside the hurt and tried to bury it.

Seeing Murtagh alive again- at the wrong side of the battlefield- had ripped open the door he had hidden his feelings behind. Everything he had tried to keep locked away had hit him hard, and since then he had done everything to avoid the crushing weight of his emotions.

It hadn't worked. Even the knowledge that they were blood relatives had done nothing to stem the flood of his feelings.

'Murtagh.'

_am I... your one and only desire... _

_am I the reason you breathe... _

_or am I the reason you cry..._

Miles away a pale man was lying on his bed, staring at the dank ceiling of his dungeon room.

How long had it been? Days? Weeks? It had been far too long since he had seen his brother.

It wasn't supposed to end like this. This was not supposed to happen this way. It wasn't fair. Murtagh, more than anyone else, knew that life did not treat all equally but this... it was too cruel.

When he had been younger, he had wanted a father. He had been denied.

When he had cried out to the heavens for a mother, he had been refused.

When he had begged for rescue to any god he felt would listen, he had been left in Galbatorix's castle. He had finally managed to escape that fate, and after that he had run into someone that made his past wants seem needless.

Eragon was all he had wanted. Even now, when he knew the truth of their relationship, the desire had still been there. The denial of this request had seemed crueler than all the rest combined.

A pained expression in his hazel eyes, he allowed any memories he had of the brunette to surface.

Eragon's smile- brighter than sunlight. Even the memory of the smile brought warmth to Murtagh's cold heart.

Eragon's laughter- so rarely had he heard it, but it was such a pure sound. Despite the unlikelihood of ever hearing it again, he longed for it.

All too soon, his good memories gave way to bad.

Eragon's anger, directed solely at him. The betrayal and pain evident in those soulful brown eyes had cut deeply into the red Rider, even if he had refused to show it.

And then... more recently, Eragon's tears. Murtagh had scryed his younger brother- secretly, away from Galbatorix- and had caught his brother without the dwarven necklace protecting him. Eragon had been sitting down, hugging his knees to his chest as a few crystalline teardrops rolled down his cheeks. Murtagh had watched- stunned- as Eragon whispered his name, then quickly wiped off his cheeks and stood. There, Murtagh had terminated the scry.

Even here, he had heard of the Varden's hard work in preparation to march on Galbatorix's stronghold. Even though the king was evil, he was smart enough to have spies in Surda. Those spies had told the king that the Varden- and Surda itself- was preparing for a final attack.

Murtagh had heard from them that Eragon was working twice as hard as any member of the Varden or Surda. He spent much more time on training than anyone else- it seemed as though Eragon was determined to live through the next battle, if only to kill either Galbatorix or Murtagh himself.

Not that the red Rider believed them. He had known the brunette long enough to know that Eragon's motives wouldn't just be to kill someone else. There was a deeper reasoning here.

Even though he knew Eragon's reasons could directly affect himself, he was more interested in why Eragon cried, and what it had to do with himself.

_Always... always... always... always... always... always... always... _

_I just can't live without you..._

He rolled on to his side, getting sick of the ceiling.

Perhaps the wall would be better to stare at for hours on end.

It was the worst and strangest kind of punishment placed on him. To long for one person, to want nothing more to see them, and to be sworn loyal to someone you hated- someone who was trying to kill the person you wanted more than anything. Someone evil enough to use you as the tool to achieve that end.

Sometimes, Murtagh had actually considered ending it before it came to Eragon's life or his. Dying would be little different than a life without Eragon.

He smiled dryly at the thought.

'Life without Eragon... what an oxymoron...'

_I love you... _

_I hate you... _

_I can't get around you... _

_I breathe you... _

_I taste you... _

_I can't live without you... _

_I just can't take any more... _

_this life of solitude... _

_I guess that i'm out the door... _

_and now i'm done with you... _

Weeks Later

Eragon steadied himself on top of Saphira, the complex maneuvers he had to execute taking their toll on both his balance and his dragon's strength.

It was yet another fight with Galbatorix's men. Another fight with Murtagh.

Saphira suddenly dove to evade a jet of fire issuing from Thorn's mouth, shooting back up the second the danger had past and returning with a stream of white-hot flames from her own maw.

With all the hate he could muster, he glared at the other Rider. Both were slightly bloody, with numerous cuts and bruises to mark the hour they had already spent fighting.

'You bastard.' he thought venomously, seeing Murtagh smirk victoriously as Thorn and Saphira dove towards each other to attack with tooth and talon.

Murtagh had betrayed him and the Varden- it was impossible not to hate him for that, but somehow Eragon knew that he would not hate Murtagh so much for the betrayal if he hadn't loved Murtagh to begin with.

Concentrating on the fight, Eragon ordered Saphira to pull back and dive around to the side. Hopefully they would be quick enough to catch their enemy off his guard and attack from behind.

The blue dragon followed his orders, quickly pulling back and around. Seeing the look on his opponent's face- shock- Eragon allowed himself a smile as he urged Saphira forward.

With a roar, she dove towards Thorn's unprotected back. Her action caught the ruby dragon in the middle of turning to face her- her dive caused both to drop tens of feet before they straightened. Saphira was forced to break away before both dragons had fallen far enough to hit the ground.

The dragon's circled each other in the air, neither Rider daring to look down to the battlefield and see how their side was doing.

"You've improved, little brother." Murtagh said tauntingly, Za'roc shining in the sunlight. The blood that was on the blade was barely visible against the already red metal. "With a few more improvements you might even challenge me."

"I'm more than your match, Murtagh!" Eragon replied, anger boiling inside of his heart. It hid the pain, numbing him to any other emotion until he was safely away from his brother. "I fight to free everyone from Galbatorix's tyranny- and you?" Eragon paused for breath here, panting from exhaustion. "You only fight for yourself! You're just like your father- a betrayer!"

Murtagh's face hardened, Thorn diving towards Eragon and Saphira. At the last second, Thorn turned just slightly so that Murtagh could bring Za'roc towards Eragon's neck. Eragon blocked hastily, cursing himself for not expecting the move.

The red Rider leaned in close, an angry glare on his face.

"Don't you dare presume to know what I fight for. I will never be my father, Eragon."

Eragon didn't waste breath with a reply- it was taking everything he had to hold the deadly blade away from his neck, Murtagh's position giving the pale one the advantage.

Just as he was sure his arms would give out, Murtagh pulled back. Eragon blinked in confusion- for a second, he was sure he saw a grimace of pain pass over Murtagh's features, but then it was gone.

"Retreat!" Murtagh yelled, not sparing another glance at Eragon as he dove down towards the battlefield. "Retreat!" he shouted again. Looking down, Eragon watched as every soldier bearing Galbatorix's colors turned and fled. They left behind their dead and their wounded.

Similarly, below him he could see the Varden watching- dumbstruck- as their opponents disappeared. No one bothered chasing- many of them were badly hurt, and for many it was a blessed reprieve, if a bit curious.

Eragon lifted his eyes to follow the red dragon he could see disappearing into the distance.

'He could have killed me.' Eragon thought. The blade had been seconds from a fatal wound, and had Murtagh pressed his advantage just a little bit more Eragon would be dead.

'He retreated.' Eragon could see no sign of Murtagh returning. He sighed, relaxing into the arms of weariness. He leaned against Saphira's neck.

Are you all right? he asked her.

I am fine. What do you make of this? she asked, sinking slowly down to the ground.

Eragon took in a deep breath, smelling a faintly spicy scent on the wind. One he recognized very well- one that made him weak. He sighed again, eyes falling partially closed.

I don't know. 

That night, Eragon listened to the festivities outside his tent, not bothering to attend them himself. Any time the Varden won- which for them meant living through a battle- there was cause for celebration. Eragon rarely participated.

He had preferred to keep to himself since... a long time ago. The last person he had let close had hurt him- and as much as it hurt to be alone all the time, it would hurt worse if someone he cared for betrayed him as Murtagh had.

Suddenly disgusted with himself for his self-pitying thoughts, he stood and left his tent to see if any of the party activities could bring him out of the dark mood he had found himself in.

_I feel... like you don't want me around... _

_I guess i'll pack all my things... _

_I guess i'll see you around... _

_Its all... been bottled up until now... _

_as I walk out your door... _

_all I hear is the sound..._

Eragon wandered between the tents, hearing carefree laughter and seeing people drunk on happiness as much as liquor. It was slightly soothing to him to see so many happy people, though a twinge of jealousy went through him.

Why were they allowed to be happy when he was not?

He looked away from the group of revelers he had been studying, only to come face-to-face with a pretty elf maid he recognized.

"Arya svit-kona." he said in greeting, touching his fingers to his lips respectfully. She repeated the greeting, smiling slightly at him.

"It's a good night tonight Eragon. Why do you not enjoy yourself while the Varden celebrates? Our victory is yours as well." she said softly. A bit of concern had seeped into her tone by the end of her sentence.

"I... don't know." Eragon lied, looking away in hopes the perceptive elf wouldn't catch him in his lie.

"I think you do, but I won't pry. You've had enough respect for me not to do so in the past."

They stood in a comfortable silence, until the appearance of a third person broke the quiet.

"Arya svit-kona." Eragon turned as Arya did, frowning as he didn't recognize the voice.

A tall male elf approached them, his silver hair in a loose braid down his back with two long bangs framing his elegant- and young- face. His crystalline blue eyes sparkled slightly upon seeing Arya, and he bowed slightly. Arya bowed in turn, though Eragon noticed she avoided looking at the man.

"Vyrin." she replied. "It's good to see you. I did not know that you were here. Did your father send you?"

"I came of my own will." he said. He turned his gaze to Eragon. "May I ask your name, sir?"

Eragon opened his mouth to reply, but Arya beat him to it.

"Vyrin, this is Eragon- the Rider. Eragon, this is Vyrin- son and heir of the Kyuzo family." Vyrin bowed.

"It's an honor to meet one such as yourself, Rider Eragon."

"Likewise." Eragon bowed slightly in reply, eyes on Arya.

She was openly staring at Vyrin, now that the elf couldn't see her. A slightly pained expression crossed Eragon's face. Even if he held no such feelings for her now, at one time he had believed himself in love with her.

Vyrin straightened, and Arya moved to engage the elf in conversation. Eragon watched as the two talked, ignoring him.

Quietly, he excused himself and turned back to his tent.

Once inside, he threw himself on his bed.

As he did, all of the emotions he had kept bottled up and hidden away came crashing down.

The infatuation he had once had for Arya, masking the feelings he had felt for someone else- someone he was had not been willing to accept as a love interest.

The despair he had felt when he had believed that someone dead.

The despair he had felt when Arya had rejected him, even if he had known by then that she would never be enough to fill the hole in his heart.

The pain and betrayal he felt every time he had to face Murtagh on the battlefield.

The hurt when he saw how obvious Arya was in her feelings for Vyrin.

'Murtagh doesn't want me. Arya doesn't need me.' He knew the elf saw him as a friend, but he needed someone closer than that. He needed someone who would be with him- someone who would give him the security he needed. It may have sounded weak, but Eragon couldn't bear the loneliness much longer.

'Does no one want me around?'

The Varden may need him, but that was different than desire. If he had to be needed, he preferred the kind where someone wanted him so much they couldn't bear to be without him.

'I need to get out of here.'

Just a few hours and he could clear out his mind, and he could put all the emotions back where they belonged. He couldn't do it where he was, but...

Saphira? he called, grabbing his cloak. She answered instantly.

What is it, Eragon? 

I need to fly for just a little while. If you're enjoying the festival, I can take a walk instead. he said, feeling slightly guilty about pulling his dragon away from the fun.

We haven't flown for fun in a long time. I'm coming. He could feel her worry, but he brushed it off.

No need to have both of them absolutely miserable.

Good. Meet me at the east edge of camp- everyone's on the west side. 

I'll be there. 

Eragon pulled on his cloak, then looked at his sword.

'Just in case.' He buckled the belt around his waist, then snuck out the back flap of his tent and traveled carefully to the east edge of the camp where he could meet Saphira.

_Always... always... always... always... always... always... always... _

_I just can't live without you..._

He smiled upon seeing her waiting for him. He rubbed her snout affectionately, then moved to her back and climbed on.

Is there anywhere in particular you want to go? she asked, concern leaking into her mental voice as she felt the tumult his emotions were in.

"North. I don't really care to go to any particular destination." Eragon replied out loud. Saphira nodded, leaping into the air and flapping quickly to rise higher into the night sky.

Eragon watched the ground flash by underneath them, the sound of his dragon's wings comforting.

He leaned forward, resting against her neck as he allowed her to fly in any direction she pleased.

It didn't matter. Here at least, he knew he was alone but for Saphira. It seemed less lonely, somehow, when he was in the sky. He knew there was no one else sharing the sky with him but the sapphire dragon he rode- he couldn't delude himself into believing he had a friend to talk to.

No one would understand his problems. The only one who might come close was supposedly one of his worst enemies.

Worst enemy or not, Murtagh might be able to understand him- and that was what Eragon needed. Brothers or not, Murtagh would be able to fill the hole in his heart.

'You fool.' he thought sullenly, not sure if he was referring to himself or his brother. 'If it had been anyone else, I would have been able to withstand their betrayal.'

Something inside of him had died the day Murtagh apparently had, and the rest of him had gone numb when Murtagh had been revealed at the Battle of the Burning Plains. It was a half-life he lived, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever go back to being whole.

They flew for a long time, Eragon not bothering to keep track of things as meaningless as minutes. He was drowsy, his tiredness clouding his vision until he felt something odd.

Saphira was angling down. For a moment, he thought they had circled back to the camp, but then Saphira touched down on a wide plateau.

Where are we? he asked, sitting up and stretching slightly.

Miles from camp. You can see the moon clearly from here- it's lovely. Saphira replied. Shrugging, Eragon slid off the saddle. He stumbled slightly as his feet met the hard ground, but quickly regained his balance.

He walked forward a few paces, taking in the sight.

Everything was colored by the night, and he was so high up it was completely silent. The moon cast her rays upon everything, making it bright enough to see many things, but not revealing all the secrets of the landscapes. From where he stood, it seemed almost as though he could see all of Alagaesia, even though he knew it was much bigger than the small portion he was viewing.

'It is beautiful.' he thought, sitting down on a rock large enough to support him. It was oddly calming- the same sensation he got while flying, but this time he was firmly on the ground.

Thank you, Saphira. 

She nodded, but didn't reply otherwise. Instead, she relaxed as well, laying down and resting her head on her forelegs.

_I love you... _

_I hate you... _

_I can't get around you... _

_I breathe you... _

_I taste you... _

_I can't live without you... _

_I just can't take any more... _

_this life of solitude... _

_I guess that i'm out the door... _

_and now i'm done with you..._

Murtagh paced in his room, the stark white bandages showing clearly against his skin.

He had come so close to killing Eragon. Even if that would have freed him from this endless cycle- Galbatorix would have killed him for murdering the only female dragon- he couldn't do it.

He turned to the nearest wall and punched it as hard as he could, feeling blood trickle down his hand at the action.

His hand burned painfully, but it meant little to Murtagh.

Soon, he knew, Galbatorix would get worried about Eragon's power. Galbatorix would order Eragon's death in order to protect the power he had killed to achieve. At that time- still bound by oath- Murtagh would be sent with orders to bring back his brothers head or die trying.

As much as he sometimes hated Eragon for being unable or unwilling to rescue him from Galbatorix's service, and not believing that he was not acting of his own free will, it would be impossible to kill the brunette.

All his life he had been alone, except for one person who had taught him his skills with the sword. That person had died helping him escape the first time.

Eragon had been the first person he had loved. Going from his company to... this...

Growling, Murtagh punched the wall again with his other hand. It hurt, but the pain distracted him from his emotions for a few precious seconds.

He whirled around, suddenly unable to bear staying in his room any longer.

Thorn! he barked mentally. He could feel his dragon stirring- apparently, he had been asleep. Sorry to wake you. 

Now what do you want? Thorn grumbled. I was happily asleep. Murtagh ignored the grumbling, knowing the ruby dragon was always cranky when first awoken.

I did apologize. I need to fly. Murtagh said. He could feel a slight bit of concern coming from his dragon before Thorn forcibly cut off the emotion.

Fine. I'll be outside by the time you reach the back gate. 

Murtagh smiled slightly- one less thing to cause him stress.

Thank you. 

As promised, the second Murtagh stepped foot outside he could see the large outline of his dragon. He walked forwards, swinging a leg up and over Thorn's back. He settled into the saddle.

Where to? 

Just go south. I don't really care where. 

Grunting, the ruby dragon took off, turning and heading south as his Rider had asked. Murtagh didn't initiate conversation again, preferring the silence.

It may have left him to reflect on his thoughts, but that was okay.

_I love you... _

_I hate you... _

_I can't live without you... _

_I left my head around your heart... _

_Why would you tear my world apart..._

Murtagh and Thorn flew aimlessly, looking at the wide stretches of land between villages as well as the streams, lakes, and forests. Sometimes they flew east or west, but they continued heading south.

This was his world- in the air, all by himself. It was just him and Thorn, just them against the world. They only had each other- Murtagh was not loyal to the king he served, and to the people he wanted to be loyal to, he was a mortal enemy. It was funny how life worked...

If he had to continue acting against his nature like this, he was sure he'd go insane.

At the thought, he chuckled, causing Thorn to look back at him curiously. He waved Thorn off.

'I think I was insane since this started. The moment I was captured- and my world collapsed- I went insane.'

Casually, he glanced down, eyes going wide.

'What are they doing here?'

"Thorn, it looks like we have company." Murtagh said, pointing to the large plateau below them. Thorn looked, mentally smirking.

Shall we go say hello? 

"We shall."

_Always... always... always... always... _

Eragon looked up at the full moon. It was almost directly overhead, so to make it easy on himself he laid down to watch the orbs progress across the sky.

He didn't enjoy the loneliness, but it was easier to be alone than have people close to you.

He was just about to close his eyes for a short nap when something caught his eye.

A large, dark figure moved across the moon, clearly outlined though Eragon couldn't clearly see it.

As the figure passed through the moon, Eragon's heart sank.

Just for a second, he was certain he had seen red, as well as an outline he would never mistake. He scrambled to his feet, seeing the figure loop gracefully around and descend closer to himself and Saphira.

Cursing the fact he had neglected to wear armor, Eragon grabbed for his sword.

Saphira get up- Murtagh and Thorn are here! 

Instantly, the blue dragon jerked, following her Rider's line of sight to see the red dragon open his wings to slow their descent as they nearest the outer edge of the plateau.

Growling, she too scrambled to her feet, moving to Eragon's side. Both watched with narrowed eyes as the ruby dragon landed. He moved forward a few feet, his Rider sliding off his back and then facing them.

"What a welcoming committee." Murtagh said dryly, eyeing their drawn weapons. Casually, he walked forward. He didn't seem concerned that both Saphira and Eragon were ready to attack at the slightest provocation, though Eragon noted with some satisfaction that Murtagh's hand never strayed far from Za'roc's hilt.

And even if Murtagh attempted to appear unconcerned, his dragon made no such attempt. Thorn growled, staying right next to his Rider protectively.

"What do you want?" Eragon demanded, tensing as Murtagh drew closer. Murtagh shrugged.

"I wanted to see the moon. Lovely view from here, isn't it?" It didn't escape Eragon's notice that Murtagh's hazel eyes were focused solely on him- he hadn't glanced at the moon. A small shiver went through the brunette at the intense gaze focused on him- it seemed like Murtagh not only saw him, but saw right through him too. It was slightly unsettling, but Eragon found himself slowly lowering his sword.

This seemed to please Murtagh- he smiled, stepping slightly closer. Saphira growled, making as if to move forward, but then paused as Thorn growled dangerously at her. Murtagh stopped, now just feet from Eragon.

_I see... the blood all over your hands... _

_does it make you feel... more like a man... _

_was it all... just a part of your plan... _

_the pistol's shakin' in my hands... _

_and all I hear is the sound..._

Eragon looked away from the eyes staring into his own, his gaze landing on the pale but fine hands peaking out from the cloak Murtagh wore.

Even though he knew it was just an illusion, they seemed to be covered in blood. All the people that he had seen Murtagh kill, and all the people that would die until he managed to defeat Murtagh.

Eragon turned towards Saphira, keeping his head down but his eyes trained on the traitor standing just feet from him as he groped for the saddle.

"And where are you going?" Murtagh asked. Eragon glared, anger allowing him to raise his eyes to Murtagh's without being drawn in.

"It's none of your business." he replied. "I have nothing to say to you, murderer."

Murtagh stiffened, the easy air he had had about him hardening in an instant. He stepped forward, Saphira reacting but too slow to stop him as he forcibly turned Eragon around and pinned him to her side. Thorn stepped forward as well, blocking Saphira from twisting fully to bite at the red Rider.

"I thought I told you not to presume anything about me." Murtagh said, hands pinning Eragon's wrists by his sides, his body keeping Eragon still as his eyes bore into the brunette's. Eragon swallowed heavily, the feel of Murtagh's body against his inciting reactions he really did not need at the moment.

"You... said not to presume anything about what you fight for." Eragon replied, his sword shaking in his hand. He tried to hold on to it, but it was useless.

The sword fell to the ground with a loud 'clang'. Saphira jerked her head, seeing her defenseless Rider, and growled. Thorn roared in response, moving to once again block Murtagh from the blue dragon's wrath.

Saphira growled again at her helplessness. Moving would leave Eragon with nothing supporting him- and she didn't fancy the idea of her Rider helpless on the ground against his foe. Thorn was preventing her from knocking Murtagh away from Eragon- both she and her Rider were trapped.

"Then why do you insist that you know me?" Murtagh asked, pressing closer to his brother. This was the only time he'd ever be able to be this close... it was impossible to resist temptation, especially when he heard how Eragon's breath hitched as he pressed closer.

"You killed so many people. You will continue to cost the lives of others as long as you fight for Galbatorix- that makes you a murderer." Eragon said, voice wavering slightly. Murtagh was so close he could smell him- the scent was intoxicating. Eragon had to fight his body's urge to press back against the other Rider, biting his lip in an attempt to keep himself in check.

"He has my true name. I cannot disobey him." Murtagh said quietly. The world seemed to shrink for both Riders, their dragon's presence forgotten as they quieted, Saphira recognizing that Murtagh was not harming Eragon and would not leave until he had said his piece. "I'm dead the second I try to resist. Once I die, so does Thorn. Instead of sending his soldiers after you, he'll come himself. If he's tired of simply trying to capture you, he'll kill you. He's more powerful than you or me, and he won't be nearly as merciful as I have been."

Eragon breathed shallowly, hyper-aware of Murtagh as the other breathed in and out. They were so close now- he could feel each plane of Murtagh's body through the layers of clothes between them. He could feel Murtagh's breath on his face.

_I love you... _

_I hate you... _

_I can't live without you... _

_I breathe you... _

_I taste you... _

_I can't live without you... _

_I just can't take any more... _

_this life of solitude... _

_I guess that i'm out the door... _

_and now i'm done with you... _

Murtagh was having similar difficulties concentrating on what they were supposed to be- enemies- with Eragon so close. The body below him was unconsciously teasing him, testing the limits of his will and restraint. That look in Eragon's eyes- vulnerable and longing- was drawing him in even further. The way Eragon was worrying his lower lip drew his attention to his brother's soft lips- they begged to be kissed.

'Galbatorix may have made us enemies...' Murtagh reflected, transfixed by the brunette's mouth. '...but this wouldn't feel right if it was wrong.'

Murtagh took a deep breath, taking in his brother's scent. It was calming, giving him the strength and courage to do what he did next.

Slowly, he released his brother's wrists, bringing his hands up to cup Eragon's face. The blue Rider didn't move, apparently in shock.

With as much gentleness as he could muster, Murtagh brought his lips to his brother's, pulling Eragon's head closer to his own. Even with his attempt at control, once their lips met he couldn't stop himself.

His eyes closed, his mouth opening to allow his tongue to plunder the other Rider's mouth. The muscle ran lightly over Eragon's tongue and invited it to play. He didn't really expect Eragon to respond- them being mortal enemies as well as brothers- but he knew that being able to kiss the brunette was much more than he ever expected. He took full advantage of Eragon's seeming paralysis, only taking a small breath before joining their lips again and tasting his brother as fully as possible.

'So sweet...' he thought, knowing that- even if this were to blow up in his face- he had no regrets.

Needing more air, he took another shallow breath before diving back in, moving his body closer and closer.

Suddenly, Murtagh felt Eragon move beneath him. His eyes opened as he pulled back reluctantly, allowing his guard to relax as his eyes once again met his brother's.

Eragon seemed so confused, and almost afraid of what Murtagh had just done. Those pale-pink lips he had been admiring just moments before were a bit swollen and red, a testament to just how frantic and hungry Murtagh's kisses had been.

Murtagh memorized the look, knowing that that look was what he wanted to protect.

'I have to stop Galbatorix.' he realized. 'If I am to protect him, I have to stop that madman.' Distantly, he could feel Eragon's hands come to rest on his shoulders.

_I love you... _

_I hate you... _

_I can't live without you..._

"Why did you do that?" Eragon asked weakly. Of all the outcomes of their chance meeting that night, that had certainly not been expected. Murtagh's eyes met his, and his breath stopped at all the emotion he could see.

Protectiveness. Need. Desire. Anger. Fear.

Love.

Murtagh was being completely open- Eragon couldn't think of any way to properly respond. His mind had shut down at the first brush of slightly chapped lips on his, and it refused to start working again.

Murtagh didn't reply, looking down and resting his forehead lightly against Eragon's.

"There wouldn't be another chance." he said softly. So softly, Eragon had to strain to hear him.

The sound of growling suddenly caught their attention. Both men glanced towards Thorn- who was growling at Saphira- and Saphira- who was growling at them.

"Looks like I overstepped." Murtagh said dryly, moving away from Eragon. Saphira continued to watch and growl as the red Rider moved slowly, seemingly reluctant to go.

As Murtagh's body broke all contact with his, Eragon acted. Reaching as Murtagh turned, he grabbed one of his brother's wrists and pulled. Murtagh spun back, shock showing clearly on his face as Eragon joined their lips again.

_I love you... _

_I hate you... _

_I can't live without you... _

_I just can't take any more..._

_this life of solitude... _

_I pick myself off the floor... _

_and now i'm done with you... _

_Always..._

_Always... _

_Always..._

Eragon could feel the shock travel through his brother's body as their kiss went on, feeling how tense Murtagh was. He held on, vaguely hearing as Saphira's growl cut off abruptly. All he was really aware of was the other man he held close to him.

Slowly, he felt Murtagh relax and respond. Pale hands came up to run up and down his sides and back, pulling him closer. Eragon didn't resist, moving forwards at the slight urging. As one, their mouths opened to deepen the kiss, eyes closing to just enjoy the sensations of the contact- both emotional and physical.

Their hands roamed, memorizing the feeling of the other body. Their lips broke apart only occasionally for air, tongues meeting before lips to draw them back together as they took in all they could of their partner.

Eventually, they broke apart for the last time, holding the other as closely as they could. Both were panting, slightly, their loud breaths the only noise in the stunned silence.

After they had quieted some, Eragon broke the silence.

"Is there any way for you to be free?" he asked quietly. "I can't... I don't want to lose this." Eragon's voice was slightly choked. Murtagh just clutched him tighter.

"I can only be free again once that man is dead." Murtagh replied just as softly. "And until then, this is the last time I can be with you like this."

Eragon nodded in understanding, then slowly slid out of the embrace.

"I should go." he said with a pained expression, his hands still clutching to Murtagh. Murtagh nodded, a similar pained expression on his face.

"As should I."

Neither made any further move to leave.

Finally, Eragon looked Murtagh in the eye.

"I promise I'll free you. I'll kill Galbatorix." Eragon said. Murtagh nodded, one hand coming up to lightly caress Eragon's cheek. Eragon leaned into the touch, not bothering to curb his reaction.

"I trust you, but promise me one more thing." Murtagh said seriously. Eragon nodded hesitantly, not entirely sure if he liked the tone Murtagh was using.

"If Galbatorix orders me to kill you, I want you to kill me." Eragon straightened instantly, mouth opening to protest when Murtagh cut him off.

"I cannot disobey him. If I get an order to kill you or die trying, I will be forced to pursue you until one of us is dead. I would rather that be me." Murtagh seemed resigned, but determined. "Do you swear?"

"I will." Eragon lied, knowing he couldn't bring himself to kill his brother after what they had just shared. Murtagh scowled at him, seeing right through the falsehood..

"Neither of us will leave here until you swear to me in the ancient language that you will kill me before you let me kill you."

Eragon shook his head.

"I won't."

"You must." Murtagh said harshly. His features slowly gentled. "It probably won't come to that, as long as you kill him soon. I just need you to do this for me."

Eragon looked away. Reluctantly- he did not want to swear, but the need in his brother's voice made him loath to do otherwise- he spoke.

"If you are ordered to kill me and cannot refuse, I will kill you before you kill me." Eragon swore in the ancient language, feeling the magic of the words bind him to his promise.

Murtagh relaxed, Eragon's promise taking quite a bit of weight off of his shoulders.

"One more thing." Murtagh said, lightness creeping back into his voice. Eragon looked up, seeing Murtagh smile. It as thin, but it was a smile. "Wait for me?"

Eragon smiled back.

"Only if you wait for me."

"Like I could do otherwise." Murtagh glanced up at the slowly lightening sky, expression turning regretful. Eragon followed his gaze, his smile falling into a mournful frown.

"We'll be missed soon." Murtagh commented. "We should probably head back to where we're expected."

"You're right." Eragon took a deep breath, then moved forward a bit. Their lips met again, but this kiss was far less frantic that the last few had been. It was still possessive on both sides, but it was more gentle than hungry, more meant to linger than to claim.

Slowly, they broke apart, each still able to taste the other on their lips.

Eragon moved away, reluctantly heading for his sapphire dragon. He touched her side, eyes still on his brother who seemed to be fiddling with something on the front of his clothing.

Finally, he turned away and swung himself up on the saddle. Saphira looked at him, half-annoyed and half-curious.

Do I get an explanation? she asked, though not as harshly as he expected.

Eventually. Eragon replied, looking down at the leather and blue scales he sat upon. He was just about to order Saphira to take off, when his brother stopped him.

"Eragon."

The brunette looked down to his left, seeing Murtagh standing right next to Saphira. Smiling slightly, his brother held something out to him.

Eragon reached down and took it, finding the object to be a necklace with a medium-sized precious stone the purest color of blood red he had ever seen.

It also had a heavy aura of pure magic.

"What's this?" he asked, looking back at Murtagh with a puzzled expression.

"It's a powerful protection spell. That diamond is the only one of it's kind- the only thing our father gave me." Murtagh said, looking wistfully at the necklace. "I want you to have it."

Eragon glanced back at the gem in his hand, then quickly fastened it around his neck.

"I'll always wear it." He promised, feeling the magic surround him in what felt like a protective embrace- almost like when Murtagh held him. It was comforting.

"It's also to remind you who you belong to." Murtagh said, a slight smirk tugging at his mouth at that. He turned, quickly mounting his dragon as well. Their eyes met for one last time.

"Goodbye, Eragon." Murtagh said.

"Goodbye." Eragon replied. Both dragons looked one last time at each other, then both took off.

Their Riders watched each other until the distance grew too great, then both turned their eyes to where they headed. Even though the direction of their gazes changed, the direction of their thoughts did not.

'Eragon...' Murtagh thought, Galbatorix's castle coming into view.

'Murtagh...' Eragon mused, seeing the many tents of the Varden up ahead.

'I will protect you.'

TBC (?) Read Author's Note for explanation

A/N: I know the ending was kind of odd, so I wrote two possible endings, both in the form of epilogues. One is angsty and sad. The other is happy. If anyone actually wants to read them (they're probably not quite as good as this- I wrote both just seconds after finishing this 'one-shot', and I was too exhausted to even finish the second one before falling asleep in front of my computer. I'll be going back and fixing them before posting them sometime next week.) then tell me and I'll post them. If no one wants to read them, then this will remain a one-shot, hence the (?) after TBC.

And to everyone who actually kind of liked this sad first attempt, I have a longer fanfic for this pairing coming up… as soon as I finish it. Could be days, or it could be months. See ya then!


	2. Epilogue A Angst

A/N: This is the first epilogue- this is the angsty one. Not sure if I managed it properly...

Anyways, SHAMELESS self-promotion! If you liked 'Always' (disregarding the epilogues), then please check out 'In Dreams' if you haven't already! It's my other Eragon fanfic, and the reason I haven't been able to update this. Yes, 'Dreams' is a slash fic! Eragon x Murtagh all the way!

And I think everyone who has read 'In Dreams' will agree, 'Dreams' is better than 'Always'.

(And small note: Apology ahead of time if this isn't up to the standard of Chapter 1. I did quite a bit of revising before I posted this, but it's been a while since I tried to write pure angst. This may or may not make some of you cry.)

Epilogue A

Eragon blinked watery eyes at the sight before him, damning himself and the ancient language for a promise made three weeks ago.

Murtagh faced him, riding on Thorn's back with Za'roc in hand. He was yelling, but making no move to come closer or pull farther away.

They had fought two battles since that fateful night weeks ago. Galbatorix had finally tired of Eragon's power- and threat- increasing. The danger Eragon presented was no longer small enough to be ignored- as far as the king was concerned, the dragon race could die out so long as he remained ruler. Despite

Murtagh's promise that it wouldn't come to this, it had come too soon.

His arm was bleeding- a cut nearly to the bone had caught his bicep, but Eragon knew he should be grateful. The blade had been aiming for his neck when Murtagh had managed to force Za'roc lower so no fatal damage was dealt.

Eragon watched numbly as his wounded arm raised his bow, the blood that had trickled down to his hand staining the wood. He barely felt himself lift an arrow from his quiver, nor did he truly feel his arm draw back the bowstring.

Of their own accord his eyes focused in on his target. His hands shook- in fact, his whole body shook- but the arrow remained steady and it remained aimed. Eragon knew his aim to be deadly precise, but for once he wished he had never picked up a bow.

Bile rose in the back of his throat. His eyes burned, but he was powerless to stop himself. He had promised, and though it killed him, he could not stop.

Murtagh held still, arm forcibly lowering his sword. He was bloody and battered, and his entire being seemed defeated. Even Thorn's head was lowered, the large red dragon breathing heavily.

A small smile graced the red Rider's lips. It was hard for Eragon to tell, through the water clouding his vision and the distance separating them, but he could still see too well.

With one last gasp of protest, his arm released the string and the arrow flew before his horrified eyes.

More than anything, he wanted to redo the last few seconds, take back that arrow, anything to stop it...

His feelings paralyzed him completely- he could not even lower his bow or arm from their position after releasing the damned arrow.

In slow motion, he saw the arrow arching through the air.

His own words played back in his mind, mocking him.

'"If you are ordered to kill me and cannot refuse..."'

Murtagh's eyes met his, not looking at the arrow heading straight for his chest. Eragon couldn't look away- it was as if the hazel orbs had a spell, anchoring his eyes to the black figure in front of him. Acceptance and calm showed in those eyes, but the blue Rider knew his brother hadn't wanted this to end this way.

Neither of them had.

Pain and anger, as well as sorrow deeper than any he had ever known coursed through Eragon's body.

Why did it have to end like this?

Eragon felt the tears burn down his cheeks as he saw his arrow reach the end of the arch, coming down with a deadly intent and speed.

'"... I will kill you before you kill me."'

The arrow hit home, right next to Murtagh's heart. With a grimace of pain overtaking his calm expression, the Rider fell out of the saddle towards the battleground below. His black uniform was clearly visible to everyone on the field- like a beacon; every eye was drawn upwards.

As if the fall wouldn't haunt the blue Rider's memories enough already, Murtagh's pained cry echoed through the suddenly quiet battlefield. The noise was almost like a signal as, slowly, everyone stopped fighting.

One by one, every fighter looked up towards where the two Dragon Riders had been battling, far above their heads to see Eragon, the obvious victor of the fight.

Their final fight.

As Eragon watched his brother fall, his emotions threatened to choke him.

Time seemed to stop.

"NO!"

Eragon barely recognized his own voice as he cried his anguish to the world, not caring who heard him as he saw Murtagh's limp body strike the ground hard.

Without needing a command from him, Saphira dove towards the still body. Eragon vaguely noted Thorn falling as well, and didn't register the soldiers of Galbatorix's army as they fled. Later it would occur to him that they had probably believed that he would attack and kill them all, what with his mad dive, but he had been too distracted to even notice much more than the fact that the area around Murtagh was clearing.

As soon as Saphira was close enough, the brunette leapt from the saddle and hit the ground hard. He rolled out of instinct, but clumsily. Sticks, rocks, and hard dirt made his landing painful, but he ignored the discomfort. The small scrapes and bruises he received were not enough to kill him.

Even that wouldn't have matter much. Nothing did.

He stood, stumbling over to where Murtagh's body lay. Tears still clouded his vision, but he refused to let them fall. Somehow he was able to see Murtagh clearly.

"Murtagh..." he said, numb hands turning his brother over. Gently, he lifted his brother's torso off the ground and cradled the other in his lap.

Murtagh's chest was completely covered in his own blood. The arrow shaft had broken as Murtagh had hit the ground- all that was left was half the broken arrow, buried next to Murtagh's heart. It was obvious that many bones in the red Rider's body had been pulverized.

Somehow, with all those injuries, Murtagh still had a little life in him.

"Eragon..." he said weakly, coughing up blood. The crimson liquid ran down his chin. "Thank you."

"Murtagh... please, just hang on. I'll heal you, okay?" Eragon said desperately. He knew that his brother's injuries were fatal- it was a miracle he had been able to hang on this long. Even if he tried to heal his brother, it would only end up killing him.

It still seemed to be a good option. Dying with Murtagh was not the worst way to go.

He lifted his hands to perform the healing spell, but the dying man stopped him.

"Don't. I'm already dead." Murtagh said, coughing up more blood. Slowly- shaking with the effort- one of Murtagh's hands came up. Murtagh squinted up at Eragon, trying to see the features he knew and loved so dearly.

Eragon brought one of his own hands up, guiding Murtagh's hand to his cheek and holding it there. He could vaguely sense the people of the Varden gathering around him, but they didn't matter. Nothing mattered, except the man who was dying in his arms.

"I never should have made that promise." Eragon said bitterly, tears burning down his cheeks.

"It's better like this. Please... one last-" Murtagh was interrupted by another cough, but Eragon didn't have to ask what he meant. Swiftly, knowing time was not on his side, he leaned forward and kissed his brother with all the emotion he had.

Murtagh responded, the kiss deepening. Eragon could taste his brother's blood, but he kept kissing Murtagh with all the love he felt for the other Rider.

The paler of the two had to break off the kiss to cough one last time, but just as eagerly rejoined their lips. His response grew weaker and weaker, until there was no response at all.

Refusing to accept what that meant- even as he felt the other go completely limp- Eragon held the kiss as long as he could, until his lungs burned for air as painfully as his eyes burned with tears.

Eragon stared down at the one person he loved, swallowing painfully at the sight of glassy hazel eyes. Breathing shakily, Eragon drew his brother's eyelids down, then gently lifted the body into his arms. He could feel his brother's blood on his chin, and he could feel the crimson liquid soak into his clothes where he held the body. All heat was escaping- soon, there would be none left in Murtagh's body or Eragon's heart.

"Goodbye Murtagh." he whispered. "Goodbye." His voice broke. Slowly, he stood, straining to carry the precious weight he held.

He looked around at the shocked faces of his friends and allies. Some seemed to sympathize with him, while other glared at him. For what, he didn't know or care. What mattered to him had just died moments ago by his hand, in his arms.

"Galbatorix can no longer be allowed any of this," he said thickly. "He dies tonight." Losing Garrow had been bad. Losing friends in the Varden had been hard.

Losing Murtagh was worse than both combined and multiplied a hundredfold.

Eragon turned to Saphira, first loading Murtagh's body and then swinging his leg up and over to sit on the saddle. She didn't need any urging- she took to the sky instantly, heading directly for Galbatorix's castle.

Behind them, the Varden watched standing around the bloody field where the bodies of hundreds of soldiers- and one dragon- would decompose.

From there, everything blurred for Eragon. He could only remember things in flashes- flying over the soldiers at the entrance, Galbatorix coming out to meet him, and then pure rage as he and the evil king fought.

Everything was a blank from that point on, except for the feeling of driving Za'roc straight through that evil old man's chest and then tearing it out to replace it with his hand. He had torn that shriveled heart out with his own hands, and had watched as Galbatorix had finally died.

Then he had collapsed, found by the Varden a day later. He had woken up after a week in a hospital, and had immediately been taken to see the one grave- monument- that would mean anything to him. At that point, he had still been recovering but that was an insignificant detail.

To his surprise, it was Arya who had shown him the beautiful stone structure.

"We buried him here." was all she had had to say. Eragon had collapsed again, crying his pain out to the world for everyone to hear.

That had been weeks ago.

Eragon had not missed a day of visiting since.

"... you promised, you bastard..." Eragon whispered quietly, running his hands over the smooth engravings in the stone. "... you said it wouldn't come to this..."

He had cried out every night at this grave- cried for the moments he had had, for the moments he would never have, for the love that he had lost. Even Brom's death hadn't affected him this badly, and the man had been a father to him.

"They want me to move on, but I can't." Eragon said, recalling one special night, almost two months ago.

"If you hadn't kissed me then..." He shook his head. "That's stupid."

Eragon lifted red-rimmed eyes to the engraving again, his finger tracing the skilled carving gently.

"I would still be hopelessly in love, wouldn't I?" Slowly, he pushed himself up, still studying the small monument the elves and dwarves had erected over his brother's grave.

The dwarves had made a large stone into a dragon that encircled the area beneath which Murtagh was buried. Another stone had been made into an extremely detailed carving of Murtagh's final moments.

The carving depicted the two of them kissing.

Right in front of that was a smaller rock that bore the message.

'Here lies Murtagh, of the House of Morzan. He was a brave warrior and Rider who sacrificed himself for the Varden's victory against the evil king Galbatorix, and one who was beloved by Eragon. May he rest in peace.'

There was more space on the stone, but the words to fill it would come years later. When he had asked, Arya had explained that part of the flat stone had been left blank on purpose- the monument would not be finished for some time. At that time, the message would be changed and lengthened to include words that could not be put down at the moment.

When he had asked what the message would say once everything was completed, Arya had smiled sadly and told him.

Years later, a single elf maiden stood at a monument guarded by a carved dragon. Her long black hair blew in the gentle breeze as green eyes studied the stone sadly.

"I wish you happiness in your next life, Eragon." Arya said quietly, reflecting on the life of one she had known as a friend.

He had never been the same after his brother and love had died, and had shortly passed into the next life. The doctors had said 'unknown cause', but Arya knew.

Eragon had died of heartbreak.

Turning, she gave one last glance to the message on the stone.

'Here lies Murtagh, of the House of Morzan. He was a brave warrior and Rider, hero of the Varden who sacrificed himself to save our world from Galbatorix, and much beloved by Eragon Shadeslayer. Here also lies Eragon Shadeslayer, a brave warrior and Rider, hero of the Varden who sacrificed much to save our world from Galbatorix, and much beloved of Murtagh. May they both rest in peace, and may the story of their love never be forgotten by human, dwarf, or elf.'

"It won't be." Arya said softly, then walked away.

The End.

Okay, I know that could have been better, but I didn't want to keep everyone waiting for the next few months on epilogues for 'Always' when I already basically had them written. I'm concentrating on 'In Dreams', so I just had time to revise this before posting.

The next epilogue should be up either later today or tomorrow.


	3. Epilogue B Happy

A/N: I posted Epilogue 1 last week- that was angsty. This is happy, so I hope we enjoy it!

I've spent most of my time on In Dreams, so I hope this epilogue came out as good as the first two chapters!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything here. Chris Paolini does. No money is being made, and no copyright infringement intended. Yeah. That's about it…

That's enough of my chit-chat, so on with the story!

Epilogue B

Eragon stumbled forward, exhausted but triumphant, wounded but feeling more whole and alive than he had felt in a long time.

It had been a long, hard battle, but he had won. Behind him lay the body of the most evil king to ever rise to power in Alagaesia. Galbatorix had finally fallen.

Alagaesia was free, but more importantly...

'He's free.' Eragon thought, smiling to himself. It may have sounded selfish, but to the blue Rider nothing was more important than a certain person's freedom. In the last battle, that goal had kept him going.

He looked up, seeing the Varden's people all around the battlefield. The opposing soldiers were long gone. The second it had been apparent Galbatorix's life would end, most of the men had turned and run. The few that had continued to fight had been quickly subdued- even more of their group had stopped fighting once Galbatorix had been killed. Now, the Varden was simply rounding up the last of the soldiers and disarming them before letting them go. Taking prisoners made no sense as the war was over.

It wasn't important anymore. It was over- Eragon was free now, too, to choose a path for himself in life, and he knew exactly what path he'd walk. Now, he just needed to find the person that had good as promised to walk the path with him.

He fingered the necklace that he had kept around his neck for the past several weeks. It had been a great source of comfort to him, but now...

Now he could have something much better than a necklace to keep him warm at night.

His smile widened as he scanned the field, searching for one person he knew would stand out. Several people- from his side- were heading towards him, presumably to congratulate him.

Not that they mattered much. His eyes had finally caught a flash of black.

Relief suddenly washed over him. All through the battle, he had been so worried about what would happen if the person he had been looking for had died. It wasn't so much worry that someone would be able to best him in battle- the other was much too strong- but the thought that one stray arrow or one careless move could bring him down… Seeing him standing there made it feel as though a weight had been taken off his shoulders.

His body sagged with the relief for a moment, but he quickly pulled himself together and began stumbling towards the person. Eragon never took his eyes off the vision in front of him, almost afraid the other would disappear if he looked away for even a moment.

He heard and saw several people approach him, but he ignored them as he headed straight for the pale man he had found again moments before. He could hear their confusion at his apparent rudeness, but he no longer had to stay with them. Their opinion mattered little.

People moved out of his way, curious stares following him as they cleared a path for him as he broke into a run. There was only one though running through his mind.

They could be together again.

His brother met him halfway, wrapping him in a desperate hug that Eragon returned whole-heartedly.

"I missed you." Eragon admitted, hands clutching the material clinging to Murtagh's back.

"I missed you too, brother." The red Rider pulled back slightly- enough to be able to capture Eragon's lips in a heated kiss. Eragon could hear the shocked gasps that went through the crowd that had gathered around them, but it didn't matter.

This was where he belonged. This was why he had fought so desperately in the final battle.

His eyes shut as he returned the fiery kiss, opening his mouth at the light brush of Murtagh's tongue.

It was heaven.

Slowly, they broke apart, basking in the utter rightness of being so close to each other.

It was a few moments before Eragon noticed that it had gotten eerily quiet. He glanced around the circle that had gathered around him, each stunned face staring right that the two brothers.

"I think we have some explaining to do." Murtagh noted dryly, likewise looking around the circle.

"I think you may be right." Eragon said, untangling himself from the embrace, but not letting go of Murtagh's hand.

Murtagh looked at him curiously, then down at their joined hands.

'Now that I can have you, I'm not letting you go.' Eragon thought. He squeezed the hand he held possessively, bringing a smile to the other Rider's face.

Murtagh smiled, looking back up at the crowd.

"Well, it's like this..."

**Insert Line**

Eragon yawned, stretching tiredly as he entered his tent.

It had taken a long time to explain his relationship with Murtagh to the Varden. There were some who didn't approve, but many did, or just didn't care.

In any case, the Varden had decided to throw a massive party to celebrate the winning of the war. Even the soldiers from the defeated army had been invited, as well as anyone who desired to come from the neighboring villages.

In short, it had been a madhouse. Eragon had been quite glad to slip away from the party back to his tent.

He was just ready to go to sleep when he noticed something odd- someone was already in his bed.

"Hello?" he said, squinting slightly at the figure. It was hard to tell features in the darkness, but the figure looked oddly like...

The figure sat up, his face illuminated slightly by the ray of moonlight filtering in through the slight gap in the tent flap.

"I was wondering when you'd get back." Murtagh said, smiling slightly. "They didn't give me my own tent, so I asked where yours was. If you don't mind, we could share."

Eragon smiled.

"I don't have a problem with that." Quickly, Eragon shrugged off his shoes, socks, and shirt so he was clad only in his pants- what he usually slept in.

He could feel Murtagh's gaze on him, the heated stare making him shiver slightly.

He climbed into his bed, next to his brother and still acutely aware of the stare directed at his chest. He nearly jumped when a pale hand caressed the skin he had exposed.

"Beautiful." he heard Murtagh whisper. The brunette shivered again when the hand trailed softly up his neck to behind his head. Suddenly, his head was pulled forward, his lips meeting his fellows Rider's.

He opened his mouth, the now-familiar feel of Murtagh's tongue a welcome sensation. He moaned lightly, rolling so that he was on top of his brother.

Murtagh's hands tangled in his hair, keeping him close as they kissed. Eragon rested most of his weight on his hips- which were very firmly pressing down on the red Rider's- and used one hand to support himself so he could explore the bare flesh below him.

Apparently Murtagh slept shirtless too.

His fingers skimmed over muscle he had only dreamed about, and had felt only through thick layers of cloth weeks ago. It was glorious, to finally be able to touch skin to skin.

Murtagh moaned into his mouth, then pulled away as Eragon's hand sunk a bit low.

"There'll be plenty of time for more later." he said, breathing heavily. Eragon nodded, a bit disappointed but relieved as well. While he did want that closeness, it was a bit soon for that particular intimacy...

He slid off his brother's chest slightly, and they adjusted their position until both were comfortable.

They shared a few more kisses- less passionate, but sweet- but both were worn out, and their exhaustion caught up with them in the aftermath of their mini make-out session. Very soon, both were deeply, contently, asleep.

When Arya peeked in hours later on an errand to find Eragon, she saw the two Riders facing each other in Eragon's bed, both holding on to the other tightly, but smiling as if in the midst of a good dream.

Smiling to herself, she backed out of the tent. When she got back to the party, she quietly informed anyone who might go looking for the blue Rider to wait until Eragon reappeared. No one asked the reason, but she was sure most everyone would be able to tell from her smile.

'Congratulations, Eragon. I hope you and Murtagh share a long, happy life together.'

The End.

A/N: Okay, that was Epilogue 2, since I know most of you have been waiting a while for it… Sorry! I almost forgot about this… Whoops?

So, did we like this? I tried, but I'm using most of my energy to concentrate on 'In Dreams' at the moment, so I don't know how well this turned out. Hope you all enjoyed!


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